Springtime for Castle in Bimini
by DeadPigeon
Summary: Castle's spring break plans with Alexis are thwarted by two unexpected reasons. *COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

**Springtime for Castle in Bimini**

Springtime was in the air, though you couldn't tell it from the two feet of snow that still  
>covered New York. This was always his favorite time of the year; spring break with his<br>daughter. He loved surprising her with a new beach locale every year. Last year had  
>been Barbados; this year was going to be Bimini.<p>

Bimini serve a twofold purpose this year. Working so much with Kate lately had left him  
>weeks behind on his fourth Nikki Heat novel. He was contractually obligated to have<br>three quarters of the book finished by April, and as of yet, he was only half done. Gina's  
>threats had become a daily wake up call from which he could not escape. At least on the<br>island, he could blame ignoring her calls on bad cell reception while he actually got some  
>writing done. Bimini was the perfect writing locale; Hemmingway had written <em>To Have to<br>__Have Not_ while living there in the thirties and even Jimmy Buffett managed to crank out  
>a book while he was docked there aboard his boat, the Continental Drifter.<p>

He had called his travel agent that morning and asked her to send over all the brochures  
>and travel information she could gather on the island and she promised to have a packet<br>sent over by the end of the day. His excitement turned to inspiration and he found himself  
>one more chapter into his story by dinnertime.<p>

As much as he hated to stop when he was on a roll, family always came first in his book  
>and it was his night to cook dinner. He was hastily pulling out pots and pans and ingredients<br>when the doorbell rang. It was a bike messenger who handed him a packet and quickly  
>hurried off down the hallway without waiting for so much as a thanks. Closing the door he<br>returned to the kitchen, stopping for a moment to open the packet and spread its content  
>out across the bar. His hand went right to the flight schedules and he took it with him into<br>the kitchen and set it down on the counter next to the stove so that he could read it  
>while he worked.<p>

Tonight was his famous carrot zucchini quiche with its rice and cheese crust. He put the  
>water on to boil for the rice and set about dicing up an onion and grating the carrots and<br>zucchini. Glancing at the schedule, he noticed that they would be taking two flights. The  
>first one would be from LaGuardia to Florida, followed by a shuttle flight to Bimini. He<br>focused on finding the best flight combo with the shortest layover time.

The water soon began to boil so he added the rice and turned it down to simmer. He then  
>dumped the onions, carrots and zucchini into a large skillet along with a cup of chicken broth<br>and set it to simmer. Grabbing a pen from the junk drawer he proceeded to circle and early  
>morning flight to Florida along with a late afternoon shuttle flight to Bimini. That was the easy<br>part. The hard part was now choosing their activities. Over the years he's found it best to limit  
>their activities to just three, any more and he seemed to return home more tired than when<br>he left, and relaxation was the main goal. The bulk of their time would be spent relaxing  
>together on the beach, reading, sleeping and constructing an elaborate sand castle.<p>

While the food slowly simmered, he sat down at the bar a perused the colorful catalogs that  
>lay before him. He was so engrossed by the choices that he never heard his mother come<br>downstairs till she kissed him on the cheek.

"Something smells good," she complimented.

"That would be my carrot zucchini quiche," he smiled back at her.

"My favorite," she replied picking up a brochure. "What is all this?" She asked.

"Spring break, I am taking Alexis to Bimini this year!" He replied enthusiastically as he handed  
>her a colorful brochure of the island.<p>

"Hmm."

"Why the _hmm_ this year? You're usually just as excited to find out where we're going. Is there  
>something about Bimini that I don't know about?"<p>

"No, not about Bimini," she reluctantly replied.

"Then what, mother?"

"Have you told Alexis about this?"

"No, not yet. I just decided last night and I thought I'd surprise her with it over dinner tonight.  
>Why?" He swiveled his chair to face her and noticed that she wouldn't look him in the eye.<p>

"What's going on?"

"Alexis came to me last week, and she didn't know how to tell you. So I told her to just tell you  
>and get it over with and now seeing all of this," she waved her hand across the bar, "it's obvious<br>she didn't."

"Didn't tell me what, mother?"

"That she has plans."

"What do you mean, she had plans? This is spring break. We do spring break every year. Anyway,  
>how can she have plans? She's not old enough to have plans?"<p>

"Oh, dear." Martha mumbled.

"What do you mean by that?" His voice was beginning to rise. He didn't like being left out of the loop,  
>especially where his daughter was concerned.<p>

"Well, it seems that Ashley's parents are taking him out to Stanford for spring break and they have  
>invited Alexis to come along."<p>

"What!"

"Oh, dear," she replied again.

"She can't go to Stanford, I've never even agreed that she could go in the fall! This I great, just great!  
>I am so not ready to deal with this!" He slapped the brochure he was holding down onto the bar in<br>frustration.

"I can see why she didn't tell you." Martha replied to his outburst.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, you're acting like a child that's just had his favorite toy taken away."

"She's not a toy mother, she's my daughter!"

"Yes, but she's not your little girl anymore; and the sooner you accept that the easier it will be, for  
>both of you."<p>

He sat there glumly with his arms folded across his chest as he pondered how his life had just changed  
>in the matter of minutes. Martha let him sit there a few more minutes before she spoke up.<p>

"Go stir your food."

"Shit!" He jumped up off the stool and hurried to check on carrots and zucchini simmering away on  
>the stove. He gave it a quick stir, nothing ruined.<p>

"Let's say I agree to this, what am I suppose to do…go by myself? Where's the fun in that?"

"I could go with you." Martha offered, with a ray of hope in her eyes.

"Well, that'll make me one big chick magnet won't it? Vacationing with my mother!"

"I hate to bust your bubble kiddo, but how do you think Alexis feels?"

"What?" His eyebrows flew up in disbelief.

"A beautiful young girl, vacationing with her dad…you're the proverbial old guy in Bermuda shorts, black  
>socks and sandals as far as she is concerned."<p>

He put his hands to his face at the imagery.

"Oh, god," he mumbled through his fingers.

"Anyway," Martha changed the subject, "you can't go."

"Why not?"

"You have to go to the Hamptons."

" And…_why_ do I have to go to the Hamptons?"

"Did you not read those letters I gave you from the homeowners association?"

"Uh…no." He replied guiltily.

"Well I read this one." She pulled an envelope from the pocket of her muslin jacket. "It says that you  
>now have until the end of the month to resolve the problem at your home or you will be asked to put<br>you property up for sale to a more responsible homeowner."

"What! They can't do that!"

According to this excerpt from the homeowner's association by-laws that was included along with the  
>letter, they can."<p>

"That's utter nonsense! Hand me that." He reached out across the island towards the bar where she  
>was still standing. She handed him the letter and he quickly skimmed its contents.<p>

"It says I have gophers! So what's the big deal? I have a few gophers and now they want to take away  
>my house, that's ludicrous!"<p>

"That's the homeowner association rules dear. According to the letter, you had ninety days to take care  
>of the problem, and since you ignored the past letters they're trying to get your attention."<p>

"Well, they have it…and not in a good way," he grumbled.

"This might just turn out to be the worst spring break ever!"

* * *

><p><strong>This story was written as a request for <span>gophers in my next story,<span> from "lacy curtains".**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

He said he was waiting for the weather to break, in truth he was procrastinating, again.  
>Leave it to New York's crazy March weather to wait until the last week of the month to<br>finally show signs of the spring to come. Highs in the low fifties had melted the last  
>residuals of snow that lay hidden in the shadows of the city. Alexis was off with Ashley<br>and his family in California, and now his excuses and his time were at an end.

"Mother!" He yelled to the apartment's upstairs balcony.

"Coming!" Her disembodied voice yelled back. In a moment, she appeared at the landing.

"Is that all you're taking?" She asked when she saw the backpack at his feet.

"I'm just going there for the day. I want to see the _problem _for myself, then I'll make  
>arrangements with the local exterminator and I'll be back home by tonight."<p>

"If it was so easy then why did you put it off for so long?"

"It's the principal of the thing, mother. I do not like being threatened or forced into doing  
>something just because it's in some stupid rule book."<p>

"May I remind you, how many times I've had to bail you out of jail because you didn't like  
>the rules in the rule book?"<p>

He just squinted his eyes and glared at her.

"I'm just saying." She threw up her hands not wanting to start an argument.

"I gotta go." he grumbled.

"Be careful." She said.

"I will."

Picking up his backpack, he left without saying goodbye.

…..

As much as he loved his place in the Hamptons, the drive was the worst part. The traffic  
>always seemed to double, even triple the drive time getting there. He arrived there two<br>and a half hours later, tense, irritated and just a little hungry. With the break in the  
>weather, NYSDOT had at least forty miles of 495 under construction and most of the<br>drive had been stop and go.

He finally made it to East Hampton and the place looked like a ghost town. Most of the  
>shops were buttoned down tight, awaiting the arrival of summer residents, tourists and<br>beachgoers. Luckily, Miss Vernon's was open. It was an institution in the area, a cross  
>between a roadside diner and The Pancake House, it wasn't great food but it was filling.<br>He ordered the two eggs and two sides and ate quickly. He was eager to get the day  
>behind him.<p>

…

His trivial 'gopher problem' greeted him as soon as he pulled into the driveway of his  
>vacation home.<p>

"Damn!"

Much of the extensive landscaping he had done to the place was either dead or missing.  
>He didn't bother pulling into the garage. Instead, he parked in the driveway and jumped<br>out survey the destruction. Standing on the driveway at the lawn's edge he found himself  
>looking at what could no longer be described as a lawn. It looked like a war zone. There<br>were at least thirty or more small craters with accompanying dirt mounds where 'gopher  
>bombs' seemed to have gone off. He walked over to a hole and kicked one of the mounds.<p>

"Son of a …"

"Oh, Mr. Castle! Mr. Castle!"

His cursing interrupted; he looked across his yard into the eyes of Mrs. Lovett, his elderly  
>and slightly eccentric (a nicer word than crazy) neighbor. He closed his eyes and silently<br>cursed Christy Brinkley, his previous neighbor, for moving away after her divorce. Mrs.  
>Lovett had been deposited in Christy's place by her absent son, some big wig investment<br>banker back in the city, and she had latched on to him as some sort of surrogate son from  
>day one. He could handle her motherly concern; he just couldn't stomach the strange pies<br>she was always making for him.

"Hi Mrs. Lovett, how have you been?"

"I've been so worried, have you seen your lawn? Those nasty gophers have eaten all your  
>beautiful plants. I was worried you weren't going to come."<p>

A light bulb went off in his head as he walked over to the old woman.

"Mr. Lovett, did you notify the homeowners association about this."

"Why yes I did. I didn't know how to reach you. I asked my son George to tell you, but he said  
>it was none of our business and not to worry about it. How could I not worry about it, your<br>pretty plants!"

He noticed she was on the verge of tears so he reached out and took hold of her hands to  
>comfort her.<p>

"It's ok, Mrs. Lovett. I'm here now and I'll get everything taken care of, don't you worry."  
>He looked over her shoulder at her pristine yard.<p>

"Have you had any problems with the gophers in your yard?"

"No. When I mentioned your problem to George, he had the exterminators come out and  
>wire up an underground electronic gopher repellant system in the yard. You should think<br>about having one put in."

"Yeah, I'll do that. _Thanks a lot, George_," he muttered under his breath.

"Now that you're here, I'm going to have to bake you a pie. I know how much you love my  
>pies. I got a new recipe off that young gal's show, Rachel something?"<p>

"Rachel Ray?" He filled in.

"Yes that's the one; it's called chicken spaghetti pie. It looks wonderful!"

"That does sound good Mrs. Lovett, why don't you get started on it. I need to go turn the  
>heat on in the house and run a few errands in town and you can let me know when it's ready.<br>How's that sound?"

"Perfect! I'll come get you when it's ready"

He watched her hurry away and gave her a quick wave as she disappeared into her house.  
>Letting out a huge sigh, he returned his focus to the yard, or rather what was left of his yard.<br>Four months. The gopher had done all this destruction in four months. They were last out here  
>in November for the Thanksgiving holiday and everything was fine. Shaking his head while<br>dodging dirt mounds, he began to think up ways to kill off an investment banker in his next  
>novel as he made his way over to his front door. He unlocked the door and went inside. Opening<br>the drawer of a long foyer table that stood just inside the door he removed a remote control  
>device that controlled all the systems of the house. He pushed the button that turned on the lights,<br>nothing happened. He tried it again, nothing.

"Damn batteries!" He popped the back cover off and rolled the batteries around inside and tried  
>the button again, still nothing.<p>

"A ten thousand dollar system brought to its knees by three dollars worth of batteries, how prophetic  
>of our times," he mumbled. He tossed the remote onto the table and he made his was across the living<br>room. He pulled back the heavy room darkening curtains that hung across two sets of French double  
>doors leading to the back patio. They let in enough light, even on this overcast day, to brighten the<br>whole room. He then looked out to take in the view of the ocean. He never saw the ocean.

"Shit!"

The yard around the swimming pool looked the same as the front yard. He opened a door and stepped  
>outside. The hedge he had put in several years ago was decimated with holes. Some sections were gone<br>completely. Gopher holes peppered the yard.

He never thought of himself as a violent man, towards people or animals, but this was war, and these little  
>bastards had to die! He pondered removing the pool cover. Maybe they would try to drink out of it, fall in and<br>drown! Nah, he couldn't get that lucky. It was time to head into town for professional help. Back inside, he  
>manually turned on the heater and then locked up before heading to town.<p>

Gorzowski and Son's was the local exterminator that had an exclusive contract in the East Hampton Township.  
>He had a yearly maintenance contract with them. He respected them; they did their job professionally and didn't<br>try to rip people off. Pulling into their parking lot he found himself faced with a closed sign hanging in the front  
>window.<p>

"Well, hell!"

He threw his car in reverse and headed back through town. He was pondering what to do next when he saw it,  
>a sign from god, well maybe not from god, but a sign that flashed Thompson's Hardware up ahead and to<br>the right. In all the years he'd been vacationing in the Hamptons, he never had the occasion to shop there.

The building was a mismatch of old and new. The flashing sign and the main building looked like it dated  
>from the forties. Walking inside, he thought it also smelled like the forties. Even the old man sitting behind<br>the counter could have been working there since then.

"I was wondering if you could help me," he asked the man.

"That's why I'm here," he replied.

"I was wondering if you knew why Gorzowski's is closed."

"Yep, it's spring break. The whole family goes to Florida every year for spring break."

"Do you now another exterminator I can call?"

"You live in East Hampton?"

"Yes."

"Then there ain't nobody else."

"What? You mean to tell me there is nobody else who can work out here?"

"That's right; the Gorzowski's have had a contract with this township going back three generations. Anybody  
>caught scabbing here will lose their license to work anywhere in the state of New York."<p>

"When will they be back?"

"They just left Monday, so not for two weeks."

"I'm screwed then," he said, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

"What seems to be your problem?" The old man asked.

"I have a gopher."

The man laughed. "Is that all!"

"It's not funny. I have the damn homeowners association threatening to make me sell my home if I don't take  
>care of the problem this week."<p>

"You don't need the Gorzowski's. You can get rid of the gopher yourself, it's easy."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I can fix you up with everything you need. Your gopher will be dead by tomorrow morning."

"You think so?"

"Sure! I just need to know how many holes you got."

"I have about thirty in the front yard and another twenty in the back."

"You may have more than one, though gophers don't like to share territory. They are very aggressive and will  
>fight each other, even to the death."<p>

"Wow."

"Yep. You just wait there and I'll l get you everything you need."

"Thanks."

"Like I said, that's why I'm here."

He lingered at the counter while the spry old man zipped around the store. He could hear things clanging and  
>banging together as the man threw items into the used cardboard box he was carrying. Several minutes later<br>he returned and set the box down on the counter with a resounding crash.

"Alright, I got you twelve traps, a trowel and some scrap cardboard. You should be good to go."

"Traps? I don't know anything about setting traps," he replied, fingering one of the vicious looking mechanisms  
>piled in the box.<p>

"Don't worry, I'll show you how to do everything before you go." The man was good to his word. He had him  
>trained and out the door ten minutes later.<p>

Emboldened with his newfound knowledge, he felt like an early American hunter off to trap and kill a rogue bear  
>that was threatening his way of life. Maybe after he'd caught the little bastard, he'd use the fillet knife in his<br>fishing gear to skin it and hang its hide on the wall of his house as a deterrent to other gophers thinking of  
>invading <em>his<em> territory. He laughed at the idea. As fun as it was to fantasize, he'd probably just bury the critter,  
>trap and all in whatever hole he found it in.<p>

Daydreaming, he almost passed up his last stop before heading home. He ran inside and grabbed what he  
>needed for the night. Back at the house, he sat in the driveway for several minutes with the car idling, dreading<br>what he had to do next. He had to call his mother. He hit her speed dial number and waited.

"Richard darling, are you done already?"

"No mother, that's why I'm calling, I'm going to have to spend the night."

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened, mother. It's just that the exterminators are out of town so I have to take care of this  
>gopher problem myself, I have to set a few traps and then I'll be home tomorrow."<p>

"Traps! Richard you don't know anything about trapping animals. You could lose a finger with those things!'

"Thanks for the concern, and the stumpy nub imagery that's now stuck in my head, but you don't have any  
>need to worry. These things are simple to use, I'm going to set them up tonight and this gopher should be<br>dead by morning."

"Alright then sweetheart, can you call me in the morning before you head home?"

"I'll call you, I promise. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, and be careful." She hung up before he could admonish her concern.

He unloaded the box from the hardware store onto the driveway and the bags from the convenience store  
>wound up on the kitchen counter. He headed down the hall to check the temperature reading on the thermostat.<p>

"Damn!" He just remembered; he'd forgotten to get batteries for the remote while he was at the hardware store.

The temperature in the house was reading sixty two degrees. At least he wouldn't freeze to death tonight.  
>He headed back outside to start on the traps. He had to locate the feeder holes and then dig them out with<br>the trowel to fit a pair of traps, front to back, into the opening of the hole. Once the traps were set he then  
>had to cover them with the cardboard scraps to make them as dark as the rest of the hole. He was barley<br>halfway through with his work when he heard Mrs. Lovett calling him.

"Mr. Castle, your dinner is ready!"

He set his trowel down where he was working and walked over to her front porch.

"Thank you Mrs. Lovett. I was wondering if I could get a to-go plate. I still have a lot of traps to set and I  
>need to get it done before the sun goes down in a couple of hours."<p>

" I understand, that'll be fine. Let me get it for you and you can take it home and put it in you refrigerator  
>for later," she disappeared inside and returned a minute later carrying a glass pie plate with a pair of crocheted<br>potholders.

She handed the plate to him.

"Take the potholders. It's just out of the oven and you don't want to burn yourself."

Holding the pie plate in his hands he now had a good look at the dish.

"Wow, it's so, white," he commented.

"I had to make some substitutions to Rachel's recipe. I didn't have any chicken so I used tofu and then  
>I was out of spaghetti noodles so I used egg noodles and then I thought, you can't use spaghetti sauce<br>with egg noodles that's just wrong, so I used a creamy country gravy mix. Her recipe called for mozzarella  
>cheese, and I didn't have any of that so I used cottage cheese and then I topped the whole thing off with<br>crumbled saltine crackers. The crackers were my idea. I think they add a little something extra, don't you?"

"Yes ma'am, they do add something," he just wasn't quite sure what.

"Well I'll let you get back to work, you can bring the pie plate and the potholders back to me tomorrow.  
>Enjoy!" She turned and headed back inside her house.<p>

"Thanks." He replied. She was either senile or out to kill him he still didn't know which. The pumpkin/candy-corn  
>pie she had made him eat at Thanksgiving had almost sent him into a diabetic coma.<p>

Returning to his house, he set the concoction down on his kitchen counter to cool before he could dispose  
>of it properly. An hour and a half later, the traps were all set and he washed up for dinner. Dinner consisted<br>of a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a quart of milk, and a package of Twinkies for dessert.  
>Ah, the lifeblood of his college days revisited out of necessity and not because he had a fondness for them.<br>He had suspected the "Rachel Ray" dish would be too good to be true so he had hedged the bet and picked  
>up a few things, just in case. He checked on her dish after he'd cleaned up and found it was cool enough to<br>put into the freezer.

It was only five thirty, but he was full and bored. He hadn't brought his laptop. He didn't think he'd be gone  
>overnight and he didn't much feel like writing without it, so he lay down on the couch to take a nap.<p>

He was startle awake about an hour later. What was that noise? Was it a trap going off? He was eager to find  
>out. He zipped through the kitchen past the laundry room and out into the garage in search of a flashlight.<br>He was excited when he found one and was even more excited when the batteries worked. He returned to the  
>living room and stood there a moment, uncertain if the noise had come from the front or back yard. He'd just<br>have to do a systematic search. Heading out the front door he found himself being pelted in the face by a light  
>rain that had started coming down while he slept.<p>

"Crap."

He went back inside in search of a raincoat. All he managed to find was a pink and white flowered rain poncho  
>that Alexis has worn about three years ago. He felt the plastic stretch as he squeezed his man sized melon into<br>the girl sized hood. Looking down he saw that the hem of the poncho ended at his belt buckle. Better than  
>nothing, he thought. At least it was dark outside and no one would see. He picked up the trowel he had left<br>on the front porch and headed out into the night.

He was on his hands and knees checking the fourth trap in the front yard when he heard the crunching of  
>tires on the road in front of his house. He looked up in time to be blinded by a spotlight being beamed onto<br>his face. He put his hand holding the trowel to his face to block the light when a voice boomed out into the night.

"Drop your weapon and let me see your hands! Do it now!"

Working with the NYPD for three years had taught him one thing; you do what they say unless you want to  
>get shot. He dropped the trowel and shot his hand high above his head. The light remained in his eyes,<br>effectively blinding him as to what was happening. The next thing he knew he was tasting mud and felt  
>someone's knee in his back. He just a quickly found himself handcuffed and flipped over onto his back.<p>

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" The policeman demanded.

I'm Richard Castle, I live here!" Fear caused the pitch of his voice to rise higher than expected.

"We received a call that a man carrying a weapon was trying to break into homes around here. Where's the weapon?"

"I don't have a weapon!" He squeaked.

"You had something in your hand, I saw it drop! Where is it?"

"It was a gardening trowel!" He nodded to the trowel that lay on the ground.

"A what?"

"A gardening trowel. I'm out here checking on my gopher traps, that's all!"

The officer shined his flashlight in the direction of his nod and lit up the trowel lying on the ground next to  
>the gopher traps he had exposed.<p>

"Geez. Cut the light Tom!" He yelled to the patrol car.

The light went out and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"Get your feet under you, I'm gonna stand you up, ok?"

He felt the officer grab his arm and pull him up while he pushed with his legs. Once he was standing he  
>felt the handcuffs being removed.<p>

"Sorry, this place has been empty for months so when I saw you creeping around, I just assumed."

"Not a problem officer, you're just doing you job."

"I told you not to jump to conclusions Bob." A second officer from the patrol car now joined them.  
>"Especially when we found out old lady Lovett was the one who'd called it in."<p>

"Mrs. Lovett called you?"

"Yeah," Officer Tom replied. "She's done this before. Bob here took down Mr. Dyson, your neighbor  
>across the street, last week. He had been stargazing with his telescope on the beach one evening,<br>and Mrs. Lovett called him in as a peeping tom. I don't know if she is a frightened old woman or a  
>nut job trying to get someone killed." He nodded towards her house. "Look, you can see her now<br>peeking out her curtains."

The all looked her way and watched as the curtains quickly closed.

"The Captains gonna have to call her son and get her moved to some kind of facility. She's becoming  
>a danger to herself and more so to others."<p>

"It couldn't be too soon for me," Rick said wiping the mud from his face.

"Sorry again, Can I ask you stay inside for the evening. I'd rather not have you give her another  
>reason to call."<p>

"Fine by me. I'm too cold and wet to stay out here. You guys mind if I head on in?"

"Not if you answer one more question." Officer Tom smirked at him.

"Which is…?"

"Where'd you get that lovely poncho, I think my partner here would like one for his birthday."

Rick's hands flew to his head.

"Aww, shit! I forgot I was wearing this stupid thing! I wasn't planning on having to stay here to  
>set gopher traps, and it was the only raincoat I could find in the house."<p>

They both laughed and shook hands with him before heading off.

Wet and cold, but still determined, Rick finished checking on the gopher trap before heading inside  
>for the night. The damn trap was sprung, but there wasn't a gopher in sight. He reset the trap and<br>went in for the night.

He started to head to the bathroom but stopped when he noticed the muddy trail he was leaving  
>on the white tiled floor. He stopped and stripped where he stood, leaving his clothes in a muddy pile<br>in the foyer and headed off into the kitchen in search of a garbage bag. Returning with a bag, he piled  
>his clothes inside and carried them to the laundry room. He didn't have a change of clothes. The only<br>things he had brought in his backpack were some snacks, a bottled water, a book and his iPod. He  
>empties his pockets and threw the clothes in the machine. Opening the overhead cabinet he reached<br>up and grabbed an empty bottle of laundry soap.

"Son of a bitch!"

He stood there with the bottle upended over the machine till the tiniest dribble of soap piddled out  
>onto the clothes below. Better than nothing. He set it for a small load and turned it on. Naked and<br>becoming colder by the minute he headed to his bathroom for a hot shower.

Emerging from the shower all warm and pink, he proceeded to search his room for clothing. He found  
>nothing. He went to the hall closet and removed a spare blanket from the shelf and wrapped it around<br>himself like a Sari. It would do till his clothes were dry.

Back in the kitchen, he pulled out the coffeepot and opened the small tin of coffee grounds he had picked  
>up at the convenience store. When the coffee was brewed he poured himself a cup, grabbed another<br>packet of Twinkies from the counter and settled into the couch to pass the time reading Patterson's latest  
>"masterpiece". A half hour later, he swore he heard another trap go off. Ten minutes after that, another one.<br>The sound of traps snapping shut continued off and on into the night until around one thirty in the morning  
>he heard the twelfth and final one trigger. As he finally stumbled off to bed for some much needed sleep,<br>he wondered what he would find waiting for him in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The late night and the rain pattering on his bedroom window kept him asleep until ten  
>o'clock the next morning. Cursing his late start and wrapping his "sari" around him<br>against the morning chill, he headed downstairs to start a fresh pot of coffee and to  
>retrieve his clothes from…<p>

"Damn!"

….he'd forgotten to put his clothes into the dryer.

"Great, another friggin' delay!" He grumbled as he passed through the kitchen to the  
>laundry room.<p>

Once the clothes were tumbling, he focused again on the coffee and making himself a  
>PB&amp;J for breakfast. He ate and read some more of Patterson's book while he waited<br>for his clothes to dry.

Twenty minutes later he headed to the laundry room to check on the clothes. The jeans  
>felt dry so he tossed his makeshift sari on top of the washing machine and dressed as<br>he pulled his clothes from the dryer. The socks soon had his cold bare feet warm and  
>toasty, and his boxers, Henley, and flannel shirt warmed him further as he pulled on<br>his black jeans.

"Ow…ow…ow!

His pants, with hot zipper, button and rivets scalding his skin, were quickly off and tossed  
>upon the dryer to cool down. He returned to the kitchen and busied himself there while he<br>waited. It was the perfect opportunity to finish disposing of Mrs. Lovett's pie. He turned  
>the water to hot in the kitchen sink and retrieved her pie plate from the freezer. He put<br>the plate underneath the hot stream of water and waited for the heat to dislodge the  
>frozen concoction from the glass. Once the white mass was dislodged, he put it into one<br>of the plastic bags from the convenience store and returned it to the freezer. He then  
>washed and dried the pie plate to return to Mrs. Lovett along with the potholders.<p>

Pants cooled and completely dressed, he was eager to inspect the traps. He was grateful  
>that the rain had abated and that the morning grayness was slowly parting to reveal patches<br>of blue and shafts of gold. Or maybe not, as he looked out from the front porch, the clarity  
>of the day seemed to magnify the devastation of his lawn.<p>

"Little bastard." He cursed as he trudged over to the first trap. Squatting down, he  
>removed the cardboard cover the reveal two sprung traps…and nothing else.<p>

"What?"

He quickly made his way over to the next set of traps, carefully lifting the cover, only  
>to find more of the same sprung, and empty traps.<p>

"No way!"

Frustration was setting in by the third empty set, and he rushed through the rest, angrily  
>kicking the cardboard off all the sprung, yet empty traps. The need to retaliate against the<br>critter took hold and he stormed off to the side of the house. He pulled off the faucet  
>insulator and reconnected the garden hose hanging on the wall to the faucet and unrolled<br>the hose over to the closest gopher hole. He shoved the hose into the hole hoping he could  
>drown the sucker. He went back, turned on the faucet and looked back at the hole. He<br>couldn't help but notice that his front yard now resembled a small water park. Multiple water  
>geysers were now shooting into the air from the damage the gopher had done to the in<br>ground watering system in the lawn and flower beds.

"Ah, shit!"

He yelped when he realized that the flowerbed on the side of the house was shooting a stream  
>of water at his ass. Turning back to cut off the water supply drenched the front of his pants.<p>

"Damn it!"

Yanking the hose from the hole and picking a trap up off the ground, he headed into the house  
>for his car keys, not caring that he left muddy footprints on the tiled floor or that clumps of mud<br>fell from the trap he was carrying. Wet and angry, he tossed the trap down onto the passenger  
>floorboard of his car he quickly backed down the driveway and floored it into town. He mentally<br>prepared himself for a confrontation with the old man about the damn traps.

Lost in thought on the drive into town, it took a minute for the familiar sound to penetrate his  
>consciousness and pull his eyes up to the rear view mirror. He could only shake his head when<br>he saw the flashing red and blue lights behind him. Pulling off to the right and putting the vehicle  
>in park, he dropped his head to rest upon his hands gripping the top of his steering wheel. He<br>jerked upright when he heard the sharp rap on his window. He lowered the window as he reached  
>for his wallet.<p>

"I need to see you license, registration and proof of insurance." The officer asked bluntly.

"Yes sir."

He pulled his license from his wallet and opened his glove box to retrieve his registration and  
>insurance card. He handed them up to the officer.<p>

"It's you." They both said simultaneously.

Once again, Rick was face to face with Officer Tom.

"We meet again." Officer Tom commented.

"So it seems." Rick replied.

"You in a hurry to leave town this morning?"

"I wish," he lamented, "I'm still having gopher problems. Dang traps I was working on last night  
>didn't work. I was just heading to the hardware store to complain to the man who sold them to me."<p>

"You might want to calm down before you do any complaining. Do you realize you were doing  
>sixty in a forty?"<p>

"No."

"I didn't think so. You might want to take a moment. I don't want to have to respond to an  
>aggravated assault call at the hardware store and find you there. I think you had enough fun<br>last night."

"You're right. I am a little stressed from yesterday. Sorry."

"Not a problem. I'm not gonna' write you up today as long as you just chill out a moment and  
>remember to slow down." Officer Tom handed back his paperwork.<p>

"Yes Officer. I'll do that. Thanks."

"No need. I owe you one for last night. Just try to stay off my radar the rest of the time you're  
>out here, ok?"<p>

"Done deal."

He watched from his side mirror as Officer Tom walked back to his patrol car and he let out a sigh  
>of relief as the flashing lights were turned off and his car pulled away. Returning the documents in<br>his hand to their place, he drove _slowly_ on to the hardware store. He parked, grabbed his trap and  
>headed inside to <em>discuss<em> the situation.

It seemed that the old man was the only person who worked at the store. He had to wait twenty  
>minutes as he demonstrated the merits of five different portable heaters to a woman who couldn't<br>make up her mind. Rick stepped in to help finish the deal.

"Wow, I really like this one. I'll take it," he said as he reached for the last one of its kind from off the shelf.

"Hey," the woman protested, "I wanted that one."

"I'm sorry, your right. Go ahead." He backed away from the prize and let her grab it from the shelf; she  
>turned and headed off to the register. The old man gave him a quick wink before he followed her to the<br>register. Rick stayed back until the transaction was completed and the woman was out the door before  
>he approached the register. He set the dirty trap down with thump onto the counter.<p>

"You get your gopher?" The old man asked.

"Nope, that's why I'm here with this trap. All twelve went off last night and not a gopher in any of them.  
>What's wrong with them?"<p>

"Nuthin' wrong with 'em," the man replied bluntly.

"What do you mean nothing wrong with them? They didn't work."

"Oh, they worked alright."

"If they worked, then where's the dead gopher that's suppose to be in it?"

"You got yourself a smart gopher, that's all."

"A smart gopher?"

"Yep."

Well, if he's so smart, what am I suppose to do now?"

"You'll have to gas 'em."

"Gas him?"

"Yep, hang there a sec I'll get you what you need."

Rick rolled his eyes as the man went scurrying off across the store. He returned a short time later with a  
>box and a long T-handled rod.<p>

"This should do you," he said as he set the items down on the counter.

Looking at the items placed before him he just had to comment.

"Why didn't you give this stuff to me the first time?"

'Well, there's no hundred percent guarantee with this method. You never get to see the dead gopher like  
>you do with the traps. Bam, he's dead, you know it's gone. With this method, they just die down in the burrow."<p>

"How does this work?"

The man explained the finer points of the simple contraption and Rick left with the confidence that his  
>gopher problem would soon be over. Stopping at The Fishin' Hole on the way home, he bought an order<br>of fish and chips to go.

Back at the house, he stuck his food in the microwave to keep it warm and then headed outside to set up  
>the gopher gas chamber. First he had to locate the main burrow by poking the long T-handled stick into<br>the ground till it freely sank a good ten to twelve inches into the ground. Once that was done, he slid the  
>soft neoprene fitting onto the tailpipe of his car and unrolled the flat expandable hose to the opening of<br>the main hole. All he had to do now was turn on his car and thirty minutes later, the carbon monoxide  
>would take car of this problem once and for all. He started the car and headed inside to dry his damp pants<br>and enjoy his lunch. He was pulling off his pants when he heard his doorbell ring. He tugged his pants back  
>on and opened the front door to revel Mrs. Lovett on his front porch.<p>

"Hi Mrs. Lovett. Something I can do for you?"

"I thought I'd come over for my pie plate in case you forgot."

"I didn't forget. I've just been busy this morning. Hang on a second and I'll get it for you." He hurried to the  
>kitchen and grabbed the items from the counter and hurried back.<p>

He handed her the pie plate and the potholders.

"Thank you for being so thoughtful Mrs. Lovett." He surreptitiously replied so that he wouldn't have to lie to  
>her face about the food.<p>

"You're welcome; will you be staying again tonight? I could make you another one."

"No, I'll be heading home in a couple of hours, thank you, though."

"You're welcome. It was good to see you again."

"You too, Mrs. Lovett. Bye, bye." He forced the parting by starting to close his front door.

"Oh, bye bye."

He shut the door as soon as she turned to walk away.

He quickly pulled off his pants and had them in the dryer so that he could turn his attention to the  
>meal that was becoming colder and soggier by the minute. Holding up a limp fry he had an idea. He<br>turned on the stoves broiler and dumped the fish and fries onto the broiler pan; this would make  
>the fish and chips warm and crispy again. As the stove warmed he decided to toast his upcoming<br>success with a bottle of wine from his wine cellar. The cellar would accommodate up to an hundred  
>and fifty bottles but he only kept fifty or so on hand to cover most occasions. The door to the cellar<br>was just off the kitchen and he was at the bottom of the stairs a matter of seconds, an odd smell  
>struck his nose. He opened the door and was overcome by fumes. He pulled his Henley over his nose<br>and mouth and quickly ascended the stairs as the fumes followed him out into the house. A coughing  
>fit overtook him as he made his way out the front door. As he stood in his driveway breathing in<br>gulps of fresh air, he realized that somehow the carbon monoxide was leaking into his cellar. He  
>hurried over to the car and shut off the engine.<p>

"Son of a freakin bitch!" He'd almost killed himself along with the gopher.

He took a deep breath of air and held it as he rushed into the living room to open the French doors  
>so the house would vent faster. He opened the double wide garage door with the remote in his car<br>and then opened the laundry room door to the garage to vent some more. Next he went back inside  
>and turned off the heat and turned the air conditioner on full blast. He stood outside while the fumes<br>vented from the house and shivered as the cool crisp air stung his bare legs; his pants were still in  
>the dryer. The cold concrete of the driveway made his stocking clad feet ache. He waited a few more<br>minutes before he ran inside for his pants and shoes. Running back out the front door with the items  
>in hand, he collided with someone coming in. His momentum sent them both sprawling across the front<br>porch.

"What the hell?" He blurted out as he tried to right himself.

Rick looked over into the face of Officer Tom, laid out oh his porch and now sporting a bloody nose.

"Crap," he said dropping his shoes and pants. "Let me get you something for that."

He ran inside and ran back out with a roll of paper towels and offered it to Officer Tom who was now  
>sitting with his head tilted back, pinching his nose closed with one hand. He threw a baffled look at Rick.<p>

"A wittle help peeze." He said pointing at the roll.

"Oh, sorry."

Rick unrolled a few sheets and handed them down to the man.

"Tanks." Officer Tom said as he pushed the wad against his nose.

Since Officer Tom was incapacitated, Rick did all the talking.

"Let me guess," he said. "Mrs. Lovett?"

The officer nodded.

"What, did she call saying some pervert was streaking through the neighborhood?"

"Pretty much," Tom's replied nasally as he eyed Rick's boxers.

"Can I get dressed while I explain?"

"Go-head." He waved his free hand motioning him to continue.

Rick dressed as he narrated his ongoing gopher saga to the man. As he finished explaining, the officer  
>could only shake his head in disbelief. He pulled the wad of bloody paper towels from his nose to comment<br>on Rick's story.

"You have to be the unluckiest bastard that I've met in…"

His reply was cut short by a loud piercing alarm suddenly emanating from inside the house.

"What the hell is that?" Rick yelled over the noise.

"Smoke alarm!" Officer Tom yelled back.

Rick's eyes flew wide and he ran into the house.

"Wait!" Tom yelled after him. Struggling to his feet with the wad of towels back to his nose, he was hesitant  
>to follow this man and his bad luck into a burning building. He turned towards his car to call the fire department<br>when he heard a loud crash and cursing coming from the garage. He turned back to see Rick standing in the  
>middle of the empty garage with a pair of oversized lobster claw oven mitts on his hands stomping on the<br>smoldering remnants of a charred meal. He couldn't help but laugh.

Officer or not, Rick stood with his lobster claws on his hips and glared at the man.

"I'm sorry," Tom's snort of laughter sent fresh droplets of blood splattering onto the concrete below. "It's just  
>too funny!" He imitated lobster claws opening and closing with his hands before he put the wad of towels back<br>to his dripping nose.

Rick pulled off the mitts and threw them too the floor before storming out of the garage.

"Hey, wait…wait!" Tom called after him.

Rick stopped when he reached his car and leaned back dejectedly against the passenger side. Tom walked over  
>and stood next to him. Checking his nose, he found that it had stopped bleeding.<p>

"Need any help?" Tom offered.

"Seriously?" Rick questioned.

"Seroiusly. I either help you now, or I have a feeling I'll be out here again later with either Bob, the fire department  
>or the EMT's."<p>

"Very funny."

"Come on, what can I do?"

"Well, I could use a couple of rolls of duct tape from the hardware store." Rick said pulling a twenty dollar bill from  
>his pocket.<p>

"That it?"

"Yeah, I think that'll do it."

"Alright then," he grabbed the twenty and headed to his patrol car. "Stay out of trouble till I get back"

Rick just shook his head and headed into the house. Cold air blasted him as he stepped into the foyer. He reached  
>for the remote to turn off the AC. Instead, he turned and ran back out the door yelling at Officer Tom's retreating<br>patrol car.

"And Batteries!"

The car never stopped as the man didn't hear.

"Damn it."

Back inside he considered throwing the remote across the room to further vent his frustration, but instead he  
>threw it back into the drawer and slammed it shut. He manually shut off the AC and began cleaning up the mess<br>in the garage and in the foyer while he waited for Officer Tom to return.

He was on his hands and knees cleaning he last of the mud trail from the floor in the kitchen when Tom returned.

"I got your tape…wow, nice place. I never get to see the insides of most of these homes. What do you do to  
>afford a place like this?"<p>

"I'm a writer."

"Wadda ya' write?"

"Mystery novels mostly. Ever heard of Derrick Storm or Nikki Heat?"

"You write Nikki Heat? My wife reads those. She loves your books."

"Yeah," he said taking the duct tape from the man's hands. "If we both survive this, I'll hook you up with a copy  
>of my new book due out in August."<p>

"Wow, thanks. That would be great. So what now?"

"Now, we need to duct tape the cellar door."

"Lead the way."

Twenty minutes and two rolls of duct tape later, there was an extensive seal attached the door. They both headed  
>back upstairs for the second attempt to gas the critter to death.<p>

Rick started his car and as they waited he regaled Officer Tom with stories of Mrs. Lovett's pies.

"Oh my god, I think she's trying to kill you."

"That's what I keep telling my mother, but she just say's I'm overreacting."

"Well, if I find you dead in your house one day, I'll know who to arrest."

"Thanks, I think?"

Tom just laughed.

A good ten minutes had passed and Rick wanted to check to see if the seal on the cellar door was working. He joked  
>to Tom that if he wasn't back in five minutes he needed to call 911.<p>

The seal was holding and he was confident as he headed back outside that the damn gopher would soon be dead. He  
>gave Tom the ok sign as he approached his car.<p>

"The seal is holding; everything looks…"

His comment was interrupted by a high pitched squeal coming from the direction of the front yard. They both looked  
>over just in time to see a small yet vicious looking gopher with bared incisors charging right at them. Rick jumped up<br>onto the hood of his car while Officer Tom fumbled with his sidearm. The shot he got off was hurried but accurate  
>and gopher guts spattered the driveway and the rear quarter panel of Rick's car.<p>

"Nice shot." Rick commented.

"Damn, that was one psycho gopher." He replied.

Rick turned off the idling car and they both stood over what was left of the rodent's carcass.

"Now what?" Tom asked.

"Now I scrape the remains off the driveway and bury them in the yard."

He headed into the garage and retrieved a shovel. He scooped up the carcass and carried it to the back yard. Officer  
>Tom watched as he dug a large hole.<p>

"He's not that big," Tom remarked.

"It's not all I'm burying." Rick commented as he dropped the tiny body into the crater he'd dug.

Hurrying into the house, he returned moments later with a plastic bag in his hand. He emptied the bag containing a frozen  
>pie and burnt fish and chips into the hole atop the gopher.<p>

"Mrs. Lovett's pie." Rick said, as he buried the remnants of death under a mound of dirt.

They both walked back to the front of the house, Rick, to return the shovel to the garage and Officer Tom to take  
>his leave. They shook hands in parting.<p>

"Thanks for your help today, I mean it."

"Glad I could help."

"I'll be heading back to the city later; so you probably won't see me again until the summer."

"I hope not." Tom joked.

Rick laughed as Tom made his way to his patrol car and waved as he drove away.

Two hours later with everything cleaned, turned off and shuttered tightly till the summer, Rick discovered that he  
>rather enjoyed the three hour drive it took to get back home.<p> 


	4. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Standing in the open air foyer at the concierge desk, he noticed that the constant ocean  
>breeze made the humidity of the island bearable. The young woman checking him in kept<br>glancing up at him as she verified his reservations at the resort. At her next glance, he  
>spoke up.<p>

"Does there seem to be a problem?"

"No, no sir, no problem…it's just…," she hesitated to proceed.

"Just what?"

"Are you sure you wanted this resort?"

"This is The Whispering Winds Resort, right?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Then I'm in the right place; why do you ask?"

"You're not like most of the people that come here?"

"Really? So what kind of people come here?"

"Well," she hesitated again and then pointed across the foyer. "Them."

She pointed to a man and a woman, both in their late sixties or early seventies shamelessly  
>flirting with one another.<p>

Rick glared at the woman till he caught her eye. He watched as the man took her hand and  
>kissed it in parting. He rolled his eyes as he waited for her to join him at the counter.<p>

The receptionists eyes went wide as the woman she had been pointing out threw her arm  
>around his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek.<p>

"Richard darling, this place is absolutely fabulous!"

"I'm glad you like it."

He returned his attention to the receptionist, who by now had gotten the wrong idea from  
>their exchange and was standing there with her mouth open.<p>

"What?" He commented to rectify her misunderstanding. "You've never seen a man vacationing  
>with his mother at a seniors resort before?"<p> 


End file.
